


Promiscuous Polyjuice Party

by WhatSoMalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley's Wedding, Mistaken Identity, Oral Sex, Party, Promiscuity, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatSoMalfoy/pseuds/WhatSoMalfoy
Summary: Harry & Ginny are getting married. As MOH, it is Hermione's duty to throw the hens party. She manages to score tickets to the hottest, most exclusive wizarding masquerade party as the main event. A severe case of mistaken identity naturally ensues.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 91
Kudos: 245





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> You should be aware that there is a TW of accidental infidelity in this one.
> 
> Due to recent events, I am choosing to throw up a disclaimer. I thought that after all these years of Harry Potter fanfiction & the original author's approval of the situation, we could avoid it. Alas, I am being careful and telling you (in case you didn't already know) that the world I am writing in belongs to JKR, as do these characters. I am just using them as I see fit. If you happen to disagree with how I write my story & the characters here within, I encourage you to seek another fic and/ or write you own! Happy hunting!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her relationship with Ron falls apart, Hermione attempts to juggle a personal muggle life with a professional wizarding one. After encountering her high school nemesis in the most unlikely place, Hermione adds another ball to the juggling mix.

Ronald Bilius Weasley was content with his life. His work was usually difficult, but that was rewarding. Plus, he worked with his best mate near on every day, and really, what could be better than that? Coming home to his brilliant fiancée in the evenings—the brightest witch of their age and, in his not so modest opinion, the prettiest too, well—that was just the icing on the cake. Yes, Ronald Bilius Weasley was content.

Harry James Potter, the boy-who-lived was living life to the fullest. He had his dream job and was rising through the ranks in the Auror office, based purely on merit and not on his name—which was exactly how he wanted it. His name had bought him many things over the years—and most of it trouble, but now he could claim that he lived life as normally as the most famous (living) wizard in the world possibly could. His working week was spent with his best friend, still mopping up messes from the war of six years ago, and on the weekends, he watched his almost-wife blitz through the Quidditch field. He would be married in one week to the love of his life and then embarking on a six-week European honeymoon. Yes, Harry James Potter was very, _very_ happy with how his life had turned out. 

Hermione Jean Granger was bored. It was as simple as that. She was bored with her work life, she was bored with her home life, and she was bored with her sex life. Working at the Ministry in the _Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures_ had felt like such a good fit initially. Now it felt like she could achieve nothing new and she ran headlong into legal issues every other day. When Hermione came home in the evenings, she was expected to be a good little housewife, though she was not yet _actually_ a wife—with dinner on the table and fresh linen on the bed. Thank Merlin for magic and curse Molly Weasley for being so darn _domestically perfect_ , that nothing else measured up. In the evenings, when it on occasion was time to mess up those fresh linens— it felt routine, and while she often reached a climax, it was never exciting, never different, never _explosive_. 

Ginevra Molly Weasley was _killing_ it at life. She was a regular Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies—a Quidditch team that was rising through the ranks. Head over heels in love with a brilliant, kind, handsome, yet awkward man and getting married in just a matter days! Just over a week and Merlin—there was a lot still to do! Thank goodness for Molly Weasley, who could organise _the shit_ out of anything, especially her only daughter's wedding to the most famous wizard on Earth. Having said that, Ginny was in desperate need of a break from her mother and her hovering. Luckily, this weekend was her hens do and she was planning to _let loose_. 

* * *

In their teen years, Hermione had loved Ron. She had loved him as much as any teenager who spent almost every waking minute with their crush, possibly could. This had gotten the couple through many a difficult time and had cultivated their current routine called life. Hermione didn't know how much longer that teenaged love could bear the weight of this ho-hum existence. Maybe this was why Hermione had gone over and above when planning the weekend that would be Ginny's bachelorette party. As maid-of-honour, Hermione was required to throw the party that would signal the last 'hurrah' of Ginny's single life. Ginny—being much more out-going than Hermione, required a raucous send-off to her singledom, and Hermione happily obliged. Anything to pump some adrenalin into her system and ward off the voice in the back of her head that beat a drum to the rhythm of four words: end it with Ron. 

"Remind me where you're going this weekend and who you're going with?" Ron asked Hermione on a Thursday evening over dinner.

Twisting her fork through the pasta in her bowl, Hermione responded, "Honestly, Ron. Maybe I should just write it down for you?"

"No, no. Not necessary, I'll remember it—this is the last time I'll ask, promise!" He grinned back at her. Hermione rolled her eyes. They both knew it would _not_ be the last time he would ask, so she waved her wand in the air, producing a quill, ink and parchment, writing as she spoke. When she was finished, Ron took the parchment from her and read through it one more time. "Does Harry know any of this?" he asked with a slight squeak. "Only, I'm not sure how I feel about my sister and my fiancée getting drunk in public. I wonder what his take on this is."

Clearing their bowls from the table a little more forcefully than usual, Hermione replied. "We will be _perfectly_ safe, Ronald. You know very well that we know how to take care of ourselves. Before we commence with any drinking, we will shroud ourselves with protective spells. And it won't be _just_ Ginny and I. Luna, Pavarti, Padma and every single one of Ginny's teammates will be with us. Plus Fleur. Really, what could happen when _Fleur_ is with us?"

***

The next afternoon, Ginny and Hermione took a handful of Floo powder and stepped through their respective fireplaces. They arrived in the grand foyer of _Selwyn's_ , the wizarding world's answer to the _Savoy_ hotel and located in Diagon Alley. Thankfully, while sharing ancestry, Delores Umbridge had naught to do with this particular franchise. Ginny's hens weekend would kickstart with just the two of them enjoying a relaxed dinner with wine and an early night. The rest of the party arrived in the morning for the pamper sessions—designed to relax the body and rejuvenate the mind. Then the main event of the weekend—a private party that for most witches and wizards was only rumoured— _The Promiscuous Polyjuice Party._

Like most others, Hermione had believed the stories of this festivity to be fable until she overheard a hushed conversation. Two young administration workers in a Ministry breakroom one Monday morning—both women held their coffee cups tightly in one hand and their aching heads in the other. Red rimmed, glassy eyes were the final giveaway that the two were severely hungover. One quick warning from the 'Golden Girl' about attending work in this condition and Hermione had the two witches spilling their guts about when and where the next party would be. Hermione adjusted the hens weekend plans accordingly.

"Wow, Hermione. It's just begun and I'm already seriously impressed with this weekend. When are you going to tell me what we're getting up to?" Ginny inquired as they approached the reception desk.

"Like I've said before, Ginny—you will be given your instructions prior to each activity. Given that I have packed your luggage, there is no need for you to even _try_ to suggest that you won't be properly attired for anything!" Hermione grinned at Ginny's deflated face. Evidently, that was _precisely_ her argument of choice. 

"Hi there," Hermione turned to the now free receptionist. "We have a reservation under the name of ‘Granger’," she told him. Even though Hermione and Ginny were instantly recognisable by most of Britain's witches and wizards, Hermione still liked to pretend that she had some anonymity. And though the receptionists had all been prepared for their arrival, this one still had a slight tremor in his voice as he greeted them. Successfully checking them in, he upgraded them to one of the two penthouse suites, explaining that unfortunately the other was already booked.

"As long as there are two bedrooms, the one suite is just fine, thank you." Hermione smiled at him. 

"Yes, Miss Granger. There is, in fact, _three_ bedrooms in each suite."

"Wonderful," Ginny flashed her teeth at the still nervous young man. "Shall we?"

"Yes, yes, of course. If you will present your wrists, I'll place the room charms on them and we will send your baggage up ahead of you." Hermione and Ginny both offered their right wrists. The receptionist waved his wand and a small black tattoo depicting a key and room number appeared. He then pointed his wand at their bags and sent them zooming up a grand staircase, before showing the ladies to the lift and pressing the button indicating the top floor. "We sincerely hope that you enjoy your stay at Selwyn's. Please let us know if there is anything you need," he said as the doors to the lift clattered shut in front of him.

Exiting the lift on the top floor, Hermione and Ginny followed the sign directing them to Penthouse Two—down the right-hand side of the hall. Ginny waved her tattooed arm in front of the key symbol next to the door and watched as it slid quickly aside, allowing them entry into an elegant suite decorated in rich creams, golds and emerald. 

"Merlin," Ginny whistled. "I could get used to this!"

"You're marrying _Harry Potter_ , you probably _will_ get used to this!" Hermione reminded her with a nervous giggle. The suite was ridiculously luxurious. Each witch ventured off in a different direction to find a bedroom—their bags already placed by the foot of the bed. With a wave of her wand, Hermione unpacked her luggage and sent things flying to hang in the closet before inspecting the adjoining bathroom. Pleasantly satisfied, Hermione went to find the lady of the hour. 

Ginny was found tipping all sorts of lush potions into her rapidly filling clawfoot bathtub, already undressed but clad in a fluffy green bathrobe. Hermione smiled at the giddy look on Ginny's face, then glanced at her watch. 

"Good thinking. A bath seems like the best way to pass the next hour before the weekend begins. I'll lay tonight's outfit on your bed and I'll meet you in the living room at six-thirty, alright?"

"Sounds great," Ginny replied, eager to get in the sweetly steaming bath. Hermione slipped out of the room as Ginny let her robe fall to the floor.

Just as she had done in her room, Hermione unpacked Ginny's luggage and laid out a knee-length black body con dress, light blue blazer and a pair of pointed matching light blue heels for Ginny to dress in. Ginny could conjure her undergarments from home to go underneath. Hermione felt she had _no_ business rifling through anyone's underwear drawer but her own.

At precisely six-thirty, Hermione emerged from her room wearing her own fitted dress in dark green, with a long, loose black linen cardigan over the top. With a pair of black pumps on her feet, she brought with her a subtle waft of vanilla and sweet orange from her bath. Meeting Ginny in the living area, she noted how well the light blue complimented her best friends' skin tone and smiled at how lovely Ginny looked. 

She told her as such, "You look lovely, Gin. Shall we?" She held out her arm for Ginny to link through with her own and the two women left the room.

Once back in the elevator, Hermione pressed the button for the ground floor. Turning to Ginny she said, "Now, don't get too excited for this evening. It's just going to be a quiet dinner with the two of us. Cocktails, dinner, wine—a relatively early evening so that we can get a decent sleep for tomorrow, alright?"

Ginny didn't seem to be bothered by the prospect of a quiet evening, focusing instead on the need for a full night's rest. 

"So that means that tomorrow is going to be intense?" She asked eagerly. 

"Something like that," Hermione grinned as they exited the elevator and walked towards the dining and bar area.

Hermione and Ginny started their evening with a cocktail at the bar—a Manhatten for Ginny and a Gin Martini for Hermione, before they were shown to their table. Ginny was in the middle of describing a new broom manoeuvre she was trying out with her teammates when Hermione choked on one of the olives from her drink. While Ginny watched with concern, Hermione washed down the offending olive with a large gulp of her drink.

“You alright, ‘Mione?” Ginny asked, reaching over to pat her friend on the back.

Instead of replying, Hermione merely nodded her head in the direction of the restaurant entrance and tried to delicately pat dry her streaming eyes. 

Ginny turned her whole body in the direction Hermione had indicated without a single hint of subtlety. Instantly she understood her friend's reaction. 

"Hot damn, he grew up good, didn't he?" Ginny turned back in her seat to face Hermione, miming a fanning action with her hand.

It was true. Platinum blonde hair no longer worn long and slicked back—but instead _just_ long enough to fall into his eyes, causing the need to brush it aside. Silver eyes framed by darker lashes and a body that filled his suit perfectly... Draco Malfoy had _definitely_ grown up. Which Astoria Greengrass, the dark-haired witch by his side seemed to be completely aware of.

Hermione was confused to find herself wishing the ground would swallow her whole so that he wouldn't see her—and simultaneously willing him to look over and make eye contact. 

"Hmm," she said instead. 

Thankfully, they were distracted by the arrival of their salads. The next time Hermione let her eyes scan the restaurant, she saw no trace of him. Well, if she couldn't see him, he _probably_ couldn't see her. Which was good—the last thing she needed was to hear him cough the word 'Mudblood' in her direction. So she let herself relax and enjoy a couple of bottles of wine with her best friend over dinner. 

Sometime around ten o'clock, Ginny and Hermione made their way from the restaurant to the lift, giggling and stumbling along the way. The moment the elevator reached the top floor and the doors slid open, both witches were kicking off their shoes in an attempt to steady their steps towards their suite. As the pair wobbled into the living area, they were shocked to see that they weren't as alone as they should be. 

"Ron, what the fu-" Ginny started.

"Ronald, what on Earth are you doing here?" Hermione finished

"I missed you," Ron said to Hermione. "I knew you'd be here, so I just thought I'd pop in to say hello."

"Bullshit," Hermione mumbled. 

"What?" Ron asked, clearly not having deciphered the drunken word. 

"Bullshit," Hermione repeated, a little more forcefully.

"Annnnnnd, I'm out! Thanks for a good night, 'Mione." Ginny said, turning right towards her temporary bedroom. 

"Bullshit?" Ron questioned with a hint of anger in his tone and the tips of his ears turning pink.

"Yes, Ron! Bullshit! You expect me to believe that you're here because you _missed_ me? You saw me no less than six hours ago!"

"Yes, but I didn't want to go to bed without you," Ron reached for Hermione's arm. She pulled away from him just as his fingers skimmed her skin.

"And bullshit once again! You go out on missions and stay away for _days_ at a time. You go to bed _frequently_ without me."

"Not in our own home, I don't!"

"What about all of the nights that you crash while I am still working? No, Ron. I am calling _bullshit_. You aren’t here because you missed me. You’re here to check up on me. To make sure I'm behaving the way you _think_ I should be behaving!"

"Fine! Maybe that _is_ why I'm here. And a bloody good job I am! You should have seen the way you and Ginny came in here! Stumbling all over the place, acting like bloody fools!"

"It's her bloody hens weekend! We had some wine over dinner. We didn't even leave the hotel!” Hermione paused, shaking with rage, she took a breath. “You need to leave. Just go home and we can talk on Sunday." She had started almost shouting, but finished off feeling and sounding defeated. She was tired. She was still drunk—albeit no longer giddy—and she was feeling most unequipped to handle this situation.

"Go home?"

"Did you honestly think that after all this, I'd invite you to stay? You can literally be home in one minute. I suggest that you make that happen." Hermione turned her back on her fiancé and made her way to her bedroom. She did not look back to see Ron leave but felt the relief when she heard the telling sound of the Floo powder hitting the flames in the fireplace.

***

The next morning Hermione felt like she had been hit by a truck. Yes, she had drunk a couple of cocktails and had a bottle of wine to herself—but she honestly thought that the awful feelings she was having were more of a reflection of the altercation with Ron. His showing up in their room less than a night after she had last seen him, showed a complete lack of trust in her. Not only that, it gave her the feeling that he wanted to control her. Hermione was not the kind of woman or witch who needed to be controlled.

Wrapping herself in a bathrobe, she made her way to the living area and saw Ginny, head in hands, picking at some bacon from the large buffet set out on the dining table.

"Coffee," Hermione grumbled. 

Ginny flinched but obliged by pushing the coffee pot across the table. Apparently, that was all she was fit to do. The two women conversed in grunts or not at all until the first pot of coffee had been emptied and the bacon and hash browns were missing from the breakfast platter.

"What is the plan for the day?" Ginny rasped in Hermione's direction.

Clutching her head, Hermione responded. "Good news on that front. We can stay in our robes the whole day long. We will be meeting the other members of the party at the spa at eleven—where we will be spending the entire day."

"'Mione. It's ten _past_ eleven," Ginny said, having located the clock on the wall opposite. Both women groaned. Five minutes later, teeth were brushed, wands were in pockets and apologies were being muttered to both friends and spa staff alike as the witches gathered in the day spa lobby.

Ginny's hangover seemed to vanish the moment she laid eyes on the rest of her friends, while Hermione remained a step or two behind, offering polite smiles that looked more like grimaces. 

The day was full of various spa treatments. The bachelorette party moved around from room to room, running into one another after each treatment ended and finally finding themselves all together again for a late lunch by the pool. Hermione was just beginning to feel almost human again when she caught sight of Astoria Greengrass. Oh gods, if Astoria was here then surely—

"Afternoon ladies," Draco Malfoy smirked at them as he walked past, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Once again, Hermione wished that the ground could just swallow her whole.

* * *

At the end of a rather loud dinner, Hermione stood to address the ladies of the party. 

"Ladies," she called, garnering no response. "Ladies!" She tried again, this time a little louder. 

The witches gathered around the extended dining table of the penthouse turned their attention to their host. "We all know what is happening this evening, but our lovely bride-to-be does not. Do you think it is time that we let her in on the secret?" Hermione grinned mischievously. 

The response came in the form of cheering, clapping, catcalling and the banging of fists on the table.

"Well, alright then! Ginevra, tonight you can let all of your cares float away as if they didn't belong to you. Because tonight, Ginevra, you will not be you! Yours truly has secured each and every one of us a ticket to tonight's _Promiscuous Polyjuice Party!"_

Hermione's little speech was greeted again with more jeering and table banging and total surprise written all over Ginny's face.

"No!" She yelled. "That party doesn't actually exist, _does it_?" 

"It sure does," Hermione confirmed, handing each witch their ticket as she walked around the table to give Ginny a quick hug. "As you'll see on the back of your ticket, there are instructions for gaining entry to the party, but I will quickly reiterate them for you now," Hermione called over the din. "Your ticket will specify your departure time. Ten seconds before that time, you are to step into your fireplace holding nothing but the ticket and a handful of Floo powder. You will then be transported to the party where further instructions await. If you're too nervous to keep exact time, you will note that the ticket will start counting down for you—from five minutes before you are due to be in your fireplace. For some of you, that time is in as little as thirty minutes. I suggest you get going," Hermione winked as the women in the room flew into a frenzy.


	2. Part Two

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and into a dark room, lit only by a few candles. One on the sconce above said fireplace, one by a door, one on either side of a wall-mounted mirror, several on the floor and another on a small table. There was also a clothing rack on which hung a suit, a dress and shoes to match each. Completely alone in the room, Hermione briefly wondered what was expected of her. Spotting something else on that small table, she wandered closer. On the table was a glass of Polyjuice potion and two small jars containing a single hair. Above each glass was a label indicating that one was female and the other male. Next to all of this was a note that read: 

_Tonight you may be who you wish,_

_Male or female, it matters not to us which._

_Take which you will and your fantasies fulfil,_

_Tonight you can forget your day to day life,_

_Here for one night, you can run rife._

_But be warned, for when the day dawns,_

_All will return to what is the norm._

Hermione considered for a brief moment, but she had no desire to turn into a man—even if it was just for one evening. But that did beg some questions—how many people inside were not even close to their true selves? _Or_ how many people found their release in a party like this, where they _could be_ their true selves? Deciding that _that_ was one question she could not answer, Hermione plucked the female hair from its jar and placed it into the potion. She waited for the bubbles to subside before she pinched her nose and chugged it down. Standing in front of the mirror, she watched as her body transformed into a curvaceous blonde woman. Standing at least two inches taller than she did normally, with darkly rimmed green eyes that Hermione envied. She changed into the female outfit provided and got comfortable in the body that was hers for the rest of the night. The door popped open, revealing a room of flashing lights, loud music and heaving with people.

 _I'm going to get myself a drink or two, forget about Ron and last night's stupid fight and let my hair down for the evening,_ she thought and headed straight for the bar, pushing through the throng of dancing witches and wizards. 

At the bar, she ordered a gin martini with three olives and watched as the bartender vigorously shook the liquids together before elegantly pouring it into the glass before her. Thanking her, Hermione turned to survey the scene before her. It looked like any muggle night club, except for the obvious magical embellishments. Stars rained from the sky, a moving wall depicted a forest where Unicorns were running wild with Centaurs. House-Elves popped up wherever there was a spill. 

_I wonder where Ginny is_ , Hermione thought. _Or rather,_ who _Ginny is. And the other girls, too. There are so many people in here tonight that even if I knew which gender everybody picked, I'd still be lost for who they are._ She took a sip from her drink and winced. It was strong but good. She bit off two of her olives, chewed and then downed the rest of her drink. Removing the last olive with her teeth, she turned back to the bar and ordered one more. Drink in hand, she felt the inclination to take a closer look at the magical wall—to take inspiration from the creatures running wild. 

"Amazing don't you think?" Came a rumbling male voice to her left. Hermione looked over and saw a short, balding man holding a tall glass, sporting an umbrella next to a wedge of pineapple and half a strawberry. Curious, she thought but replied, "Yes, I believe it to be similarly bewitched to the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts."

"Oh _good_ , I thought it was you, Hermione but I just needed to make sure," the man smiled at her and took a long drag from the straw in his glass. 

"I, wha—" Hermione stuttered. "How could you _possibly_ know it was me?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd much like the idea of becoming a man, but I found the idea _titillating_. The first thing I did was to take a peak," winked the man. Hermione had a sudden urge to dry heave. "Then, I knew you'd be curious about the magic, probably mention Hogwarts. Though I am disappointed that you didn't mention _Hogwarts: A History."_

Hermione could do nothing other than gape at this strange man, who she realised must be one of her friends, but which?

"Plus, there was a serious lack of _Wrackspurts_ around your head. They seem to have found you now, though. Anyway, I'm off to find some of the others, enjoy your night!" The man waved and bounced away on the tips of his toes. 

_Luna_ , Hermione thought. _Of course, it was Luna_. Shaking her head, Hermione chomped on another olive. If Luna could find her, surely she could find the others. But did she want to? No, tonight she just wanted to switch off and forget that ugly fight she'd had with Ron. She saluted a grey Centaur with her glass and gulped it in its entirety. Placing her empty glass on a nearby table, she made her way to the middle of the dance floor. 

Hermione was feeling slightly woozy from the sudden intake of so much alcohol. She had reached her destination and dropped all of her inhibitions like a heavy sack of books, moving in time to the music. After all, how could one be self-conscious when one wasn't even themselves? So Hermione danced. She danced until she didn't feel the effects of the alcohol anymore and instead turned back towards the bar, feeling the need for refreshment. Before she could order herself another martini, a man sidled up to her and offered her the extra one he was holding with a grin. 

"For you," he said. 

Hermione glanced warily at the drink before placing it on the bar, waving her wand over it to scan for anything that _shouldn’t_ be in there. Once it came back clear, she turned back to the man. Thanking him, she got her first good look at him. Whoever donated his strand of hair was one damn good looking man. Taller than she was—even in her too-high heels, a five o'clock shadow gracing a finely chiselled jawline, a mop of delicate brown curls on top of his head, he was unlike any wizard Hermione had ever seen. His blue eyes were twinkling with something like amusement and expectation. 

"How did you know what I'd like to drink?" Hermione asked.

"At the risk of sounding like a creep, I noticed you a little while ago. Even though that body is not yours, I thought I saw something I recognised. So I watched a little more and noticed what you were drinking. Then I saw you on the dancefloor and I _absolutely_ knew who you were. Those moves are unmistakable."

"So much for so-called anonymity," Hermione sulked. "How can I be sure that you _actually_ do know me?"

"Because I've been around you for years. Plus, there is that ring sparkling on your left hand that I'd recognise anywhere."

 _Oh_ , Hermione let out a breath. _It's Ron. He's come here to make up with me. Well, I -_

Interrupting her thoughts, he continued, "And I want to apologise. For everything. For all of my wrong-doings over the years. I know I’ve hurt you." It came out in a rush. The accent of the man whose body Ron was inhibiting, made his words sound almost aristocratic. "I want to make it up to you before it's too late and I lose you for good."

 _Well maybe this is a_ little _bit romantic_ , Hermione considered. After all, if Ron could spot her in a crowd like this when she didn't even look like herself—maybe she did underestimate him.

"Ok," Hermione breathed. "Prove to me once and for all that you know who I am, because I am pretty sure I know who _you_ are, but I need to make certain."

"Fine, how should I prove myself?"

"Tell me my name, whisper it in my ear."

Smirking, he bent down and placed his lips against her ears. Heat swirled through her, and she was surprised she didn’t turn into a puddle on the spot. 

"Hermione Jean Granger, brightest witch of her age, Golden Girl," he whispered, his breath tickling her neck. 

Hermione inwardly groaned and clenched her thighs together. Was it bad that she was so turned on by this man who was Ron and yet wasn't? If it was, Hermione didn't want to think about it. She openly appraised him as she finished her drink. Taking his hand, Hermione pulled him on to the dancefloor. They spent what felt like hours together; drinking, dancing, touching, kissing. Hermione was on cloud nine. It felt good to rekindle her relationship. Who would have thought that this would be the best way to achieve that?

The crowd raged around them. Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives. Hermione watched a dark-skinned witch in a very slinky gold dress climb her way up onto the bar, down a shot of Firewhisky and begin to dance her way across the thin strip of wood. _Well, she certainly is having a good time,_ Hermione thought to herself.

At some point during their haze, her companion whispered to her, "Shall we take this to my room?" Hermione nodded her enthusiastic agreement against his lips—and with a crack they were gone. 

Stumbling into the nearest wall, still intertwined at the lips, they removed each other's clothing without a care to the condition of the garment. Stumbling into another wall, Hermione unfastened his belt buckle, popped his button, unzipped his fly and was making quick work of pushing it all down his legs. All the while, he hiked her dress up around her waist and ripped her lace panties off like they were made of tissue paper. Hermione barely had time to take him into her hand before her back was against the wall and he was filling her hot, wet core with his silky length. 

"Mmmph," she murmured, adjusting to his size.

"Ok?" He asked, waiting for her nod of assent. 

Once he had it, he began pounding against her at an exhilarating rate. Never before had Ron been this wanton, this passionate, this _rough_. And Hermione liked it, her back slamming into the wall with each of his thrusts. She could feel herself quickening inside. 

"Ooh," she whimpered as she clung to him, tasting his flesh as she bit his shoulder. Then he hit _that_ spot and Hermione groaned, digging her nails into the skin on his back, she threw her head back in ecstasy. 

"Are you going to come?" His breath was wet and sticky in her ear. 

"Just keep doing _that_ ," Hermione managed between thrusts.

"Oh no, it's not going to be _that_ easy," he said, slipping out of her.

Hermione didn't even have the chance to cry out from the loss of friction before he captured her lips with his once again. She was vaguely aware of potential bruising in the morning, but couldn't presently find a single shit to give. 

Fitting his fingers around her waist, he picked her up and carried her over to the bed, gently setting her down. Hermione finally got a good look at his naked body. Unwilling to show her distraction, she stifled a grin as she noticed his pants still dragging on the floor, caught around his still shoe-clad feet. 

"These," she indicated towards his shoes, "are a potential health and safety hazard and need to be removed immediately."

She started pulling on his laces, loosening them and slipping his shoes off. Once they were taken care of, she made light work of his pants and socks before coming face to face with his sizeable erection, still glistening in her juices. 

_Right_ , she thought. _Two can play at this game. I bet I can get you right to the brink before I stop. Just a little bit of payback,_ she grinned, kneeling before him. Catching his gaze she could see his surprise as she put one hand at the hilt and slowly engulfed him in her mouth. Eyes, still locked on his face, she saw his shock shutter off as pleasure took hold and his eyes fluttered closed. His hands went to her shoulders and squeezed lightly. _Good_ , she thought and put her hand and mouth to work; twisting, pumping, licking, sucking—and at the last moment, grazing her teeth down his length, easing up just a little as she popped her mouth back over the head. The longer she worked, the harder his fingers dug into her shoulders. The pressure he kept of them increased almost painfully over the last twenty seconds. He was just beginning to make a grunting noise in the back of his throat when she stopped and said, "Oh no, it isn't going to be _that_ easy."

His eyes flew open, dark with desire. A knowing smirk firmly in place, he helped her to her feet and moved them onto the bed. Their bodies tangled for control and sensing defeat, Hermione let him win. He entered her for the second time, his body on top of hers, hissing out his pleasure. But it was a small victory for him as Hermione wrapped her arms and legs around his back, pulling him deeper inside of her. At the same time, she rolled them both until she was on top. He growled but didn't try to shift the power dynamic. She lifted herself up and down once, twice, before standing up and moving off of the bed. Her lover responded with a look of confusion as she angled his legs off to the side of the bed and pulled him into a sitting position. Hermione lowered herself back down on top of him, she was so slick with their passion that everything fit exactly where it was supposed to. With her hands on his shoulders, he fit one of his hands around the curve of her arse cheek and used his other index finger to rub a gentle rhythm on her clit. Keening, Hermione began to move in earnest, no longer willing to play the game of waiting. Back and forth she bucked her hips, fucking not only his dick but also his fingers on her clit. She brought her head down and littered kisses all over his neck. Sucking a love bite into the hollow of his collarbone, she felt the heat pooling into one delicious and hard-won explosion of pleasure. 

As her walls clenched around him, he said, "Thank fuck for that," and poured himself into her. 

Her cunt still fluttering around him, they stayed locked together for several precious moments. Falling back on to the bed and laying still, they caught their breaths and let their sweat dry in the suddenly cool air.

Hermione woke up slightly hungover for the second day in a row, feeling happily sore and bemused. That had been the single best night of lovemaking she had ever had. She was just starting to wonder if Ron might be up for a second round when she began to _feel_ the body behind her. Too long legs, no scratchy belly hair, rock hard chest, rock hard _other things._ The body spooning her was not the body of one Ronald Bilius Weasley. _Merlin_ , what had she done?

"Good morning, Granger. Up for round two?"

He was kissing her neck and palming her breasts and _my God_! She knew that voice!

Hermione scrambled from the bed, bringing the bedsheet with her to use as a body covering, or shield. Well thought through, except that it left Draco Malfoy completely exposed and standing at attention in full view. 

"Oh my God," Hermione yelped, spinning away from the admittedly impressive view. "Malfoy, cover yourself!"

"What? Why would I do that?"

"Because you're bloody naked, that's why! Where the hell are my clothes?" Hermione was shrieking, searching for her discarded dress of the night before.

"Yes," he drawled. "And I'd like to stay naked. Preferably with you next to me." He was now sitting up on the bed, watching her tear around the room, tripping over the bed sheet she held on to so tightly. 

"Malfoy! What the fuck?" Hermione was furious. With him, with herself, with the bloody Polyjuice potion!

Now she had a reaction from him. He was swinging his legs off the bed and reaching down for his conveniently placed boxer shorts. "I could ask the same! Can you bring it down a few decibels?" He was clutching his head, running his fingers through his hair God damned perfect hair. "At least let's get some coffee in our systems!" 

"Fine! You get your coffee, I'm getting the hell out of here!" Hermione had found her dress out in the living area and was locking herself in the other bedroom to put it on. She finally took a look around and realised that she was in the penthouse, just not _her_ penthouse. Great, just bloody great. The dress that had fit so well last night was now baggy and gaping in unflattering areas. What had she done? She had cheated on Ron, had a one night stand with _Malfoy_ of all people. She felt the colour drain from her face and she plonked herself down on the untouched bed. 

Had she also caused Malfoy to cheat on Astoria? Shit. _Shit, shit, shit._ What was she going to do? Could she get back to her room without raising suspicion? Had Ginny noticed that she hadn't come home? What was she going to tell Ron? _Should_ she tell Ron? Still, with no idea what to do, Hermione realised that she had to get out of there. She would have no clarity over any of this until she could get out of proximity to _him._

Hermione opened the bedroom door quietly, hoping to creep out of the suite and slip down the hallway and into her own with no one being any the wiser about it. Unfortunately, her plan did not come into fruition. The moment she stepped out of the door, Malfoy was at the end of the hall, dressed in dark trousers and a light grey button-up shirt. Feet bare and hands raised in a sign of surrender. She took a steadying breath and prepared herself to pummel past him and straight out the door. The moment her body came into contact with his, she felt the electricity from last nights passion sizzle through her veins as he reached for her wrist to stop her exit. 

"I thought we had a good time last night, Granger. Or did I get that wrong?" His face was sincere, but his words were condescending. He was rarely wrong, he certainly wasn't this time—and he knew it. 

"We _did_ have a good time last night, Malfoy. The problem is, I didn't realise who I was having a good time _with!_ " Hermione fired back.

"What?" He was genuinely surprised and outraged. "You said you knew who I was!"

Hermione took a second to think back to the previous evening that suddenly felt so far away. "I said I _thought_ I knew who you were! Apparently, _I_ was wrong."

Draco Malfoy practically deflated before her eyes. Hermione was just thinking that to be very out of character, when he seemed to puff straight back up again, full of indignation. "Well, just _who the fuck_ did you think I was?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times. 

"Stop that. You look like a fucking goldfish. Who did you think I was?"

"Ron!" Hermione yelled at him. "I thought you were my _fiancé_ , trying to make up with me after a nasty fight we had. Do you think I am in the habit of cheating on the man I'm engaged to?"

They both looked down at her left ring finger to see the ring. It was still very much present and reflecting light onto the walls as if its wearer wasn't having a complete and total meltdown. 

"Oh God, I still have the ring on!' Hermione began shaking her left hand violently as if hoping the offending ring would just slip off and put an end to the sin eating her up inside.

"So what if you still have the ring on?" Draco asked, shrugging and leaning against the wall. He was as cool as a fucking cucumber. 

"This ring is a promise!" Hermione all but shrieked at him. "A promise to be true and faithful and now I'm neither of those things!"

"Bullshit." He told her.

"Excuse me?"

"An engagement ring is not a promise. A wedding band is a promise. A _vow_ is a promise. An engagement ring is nothing more than just a suggestion to _one day_ make that promise."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? I'm in a committed relationship, that in itself is a promise to be faithful. I have to go, I have to figure out what I'm going to do."

Hermione was almost to the door before he spoke again.

"Stay."

"What?" She spun back to face him.

"Stay with me. Or come away with me. Whatever the fuck you like, just don't leave like this." He waved his hands in the air, trying to indicate the tension between them.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I'm understanding you properly. Stay with you? Come away with you? We had one drunken, mistaken night together after hating each other for years and years. The first does not eliminate the second," she was almost laughing, the hysterics building almost to breaking point.

"I haven't hated you for ten years!" he yelled back at her. "I haven't hated you since the day you punched me in the face and I ran away like a little girl."

"Come again?" Hermione was completely dumbfounded at this point. Surely he'd hated her even more after that day? Her desire to run away and figure this huge mess out was warring with the need to hear what else he had to say.

"I was taught to hate you before I even knew you existed. Mudbloods are below purebloods on the chain of magical hierarchy. Insignificant magicians. Small amounts of magic _accidentally_ bestowed upon people who don't deserve, understand or belong in the wizarding world. I'd never even _met_ a muggle-born until Hogwarts. And there you were, already smug with your books, your bushy hair and your big teeth."

Hermione was just beginning to bristle at his description of her when he continued.

"You made friends with the most popular boy in Hogwarts almost immediately and excelled in all of your classes. I started to see that maybe there was a muggle-born who _did_ deserve the magic they'd been given. Then I was teasing you one day because you were crying over that damned Hippogriff that'd torn my arm up—you punched me and _I_ was the one who ran away scared. Of _you_! You scared me not only because it was a good damn punch, but because then I saw that maybe you deserved the magic you had more than I did. You worked for all you had and you were good at it. Magic _fit_ with you. Then the next year at the Yule Ball you were on the arm of Viktor Krum, and I knew. Then I knew that I was falling."

"What? That's what it was? So if I was good enough for the world-famous Viktor Krum, maybe I was good enough for you?" Hermione scoffed.

"No. You could have been there with anyone. It was the fact that you were there with someone _who wasn't me_ , that pissed me off. I had nowhere to vent that knowledge, so I could only turn it over and over in my head until I figured it out. I had a crush on Hermione Granger."

Hermione could only gape at him until she felt the pressure rising—her blood boiling. "You had a crush on me?" She yelled at his passive face. "You have been nothing but cruel to me since the day we met—teasing me at every given opportunity!"

"Isn't that what little boys do?" He yelled back, matching her anger. "Tease the girls they like? Something, _anything_ to get their attention. Merlin knows it was the only way I could talk to you—be around you!"

"No, it's not, you could have—"

"Could have what? Slipped you a note in the library, asking if you might fancy your personal bully? If maybe you'd switch sides and give up your Gryffindor throne? Come off it, Granger."

"Fine! So maybe that would have blown up in your face, but this is hardly working out better! I'm supposed to be getting married! I haven't even seen you in years, we haven't ever even had a decent conversation until last night and then we weren't even ourselves! And now what? You want me to drop everything and run away with you?"

"Not necessarily. Just leave Weasley and we can work out the rest later."

"Just leave Weasley, you say! Like it's that easy. Like I'd even want to!"

"You do, though, don't you? Tell me that you're happy and I promise you will never have to see me again."

"I'm happy!" She snapped quickly—a little too quickly. Draco quirked just one eyebrow at her. "Stop doing that!" She hissed at him. 

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me like you know me. Like you can hear my thoughts. Like you know my life."

"I do know you—I don't have to hear your thoughts! Your words are saying one thing and your face is saying another. And I _know_ you're not happy with him."

"You do not know me. How could you possibly?"

" _Damn it_ , Granger! I'm trying to tell you that I've been in love with you for _years_!" He was stalking towards where she still stood by the door. "How can I make you just hear me?" He growled, reaching for her. Begging her with his body language to let him touch her. He didn't, though. He stood at arm's length from her. He knew it was arm's length because she was using hers to stop him from doing so.

Her mind was spinning out of control with all the new and overwhelming information fighting for first place in her mind. She had cheated on Ron, had an incredible night with none other than Draco Malfoy—who just dropped a major bombshell on her. She needed time, she needed space, she needed — 

"I have to go," she told him quietly. "I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said as he began to protest. "I have to go."

Once she was safely on the other side of the door, Hermione let out the sob that had been steadily building since she had first woken up that morning. She felt wretched and utterly miserable for cheating on Ron—and more so for having enjoyed it so much. Was it Malfoy who was such a good lover? Was it just the bodies that they had inhibited the previous evening? Or did she, Hermione Jean Granger, actually have chemistry with Draco Lucius Malfoy? Her knees wobbled at the thought as she proceeded down the hallway to her suite. 

_Please let Ginny still be asleep,_ she thought. She simply had no explanation to give her friend for her absence and was afraid that she might combust if asked for one. 

Hermione held her tattoed wrist in front of the wall and watched as the door slid inwards. Hovering in the air was a hand-written note from Ginny. Hermione snatched it up eagerly and read the contents.

_'Mione,_

_Love, love, LOVED the weekend but I have been hit with the inspiration stick... Thought I'd give Harry a chance to be with another woman for just one time in his life._

There was a wobbly winking face drawn under that. Hermione allowed herself a moment to breathe before continuing.

_Thank you for everything, I really have had a great time and I hope you have too. See you Friday night, love Ginny._

She was alone. Blissfully alone and able to take the time she needed to organise her thoughts. Hermione marched straight to the bathroom. She needed to scrub at her skin until she couldn't feel _his_ touch on it anymore. Sitting in the steaming hot bathtub, Hermione let her mind wander. 

First, she thought of what she was feeling about Ron. For months she had been feeling out of place in her relationship—that she wasn't living the life that she needed. Malfoy had been right about at least one thing—she wasn't happy with Ron, not anymore. When she got home, she would pack her bags and return to her parents' home for the time being. She would tell Ron that she wasn't happy, hadn't been for a while and that Friday night's argument had been the last straw. It would certainly put a bit of a damper on the wedding next weekend, but there was nothing else for it. She couldn't tell Ron about Malfoy. If she did, it would ruin the wedding completely and she couldn't put that on her conscience as well. 

As the decision slid into place, Hermione allowed herself to shed tears for the loss of the future she had once longed for. As the saltwater from her eyes mingled with the bathwater, Hermione pondered the Malfoy situation. She felt nothing other than confusion. He was right of course, little boys _did_ tend to bully the girls they liked. It was an antiquated thing for a child to do and it certainly had won him no favours in her book. However, if she looked back at their time together at Hogwarts—she could finally fit those bizarre puzzle pieces together on why Malfoy had been so hell-bent on making her life miserable. Even so, Hermione couldn't wrap her mind around him claiming to love her—to _know_ her through and through when they had never even been civil to each other and hadn't even seen each other in years. Yet—hadn't they gotten on like a house on fire at the party last night? So much so, that she never even suspected that he wasn't Ron. No, the man she was with last night knew her so well that she hadn't once questioned his identity. So Malfoy knew her, but how? The bathwater had turned cold long before she had an answer. 

Hermione dressed slowly, dreading the return home knowing the discussion she was about to have with Ron. After packing her bags in the muggle fashion, she could procrastinate no longer and left the suite. She rode the elevator to the lobby and waited her turn to check out. Making her way towards the designated fireplaces, she spotted Malfoy waiting for her. He was immaculately dressed, as usual—irritating her further. Hermione hesitated and veered for the fireplace furthest away from him, but after a quick calculation realised that she couldn't outrun him even if she tried. With the handle from her bag in one hand and her wand clutched tightly in the other, Hermione could do no more to protect herself unless she wanted to cause a scene. That was something she _very_ much wanted to avoid—even more so than another complicated conversation with Malfoy.

"What?" She hissed at him when she had reached a distance close enough to not be overheard, yet not close enough to touch. 

He ran a hand through his hair to push it aside in an almost bashful manner. Hermione wasn't fooled. 

"Look, Granger. I realise that I may have come across as a bit of a mad man earlier. I didn't mean to tell you all of those things in that way."

Hermione said nothing, looking past him to the fireplaces, wishing she was already on her way. Now that she was out of her room, she no longer wished to procrastinate and prolong this wretched feeling.

"Merlin, woman! Will you just hear me out?"

Hermione looked back at him to see his jaw working furiously to keep his temper and volume in check.

"Look Malfoy, I heard you earlier." 

He looked at her sceptically. 

"I did! But now my whole life has been turned upside down and I'm going to need a while to clean up the mess. Just let me go now without a fuss and I promise I will send you an owl when I can. It's the best I can offer you, alright?"

He ran both of his hands over his face and through his hair again. Looking for all the world like it wasn't alright at all, he stepped aside with a resigned, "Ok." 

Hermione stepped into the fireplace and let the Floo network spin her away.


	3. Part Three

_But_ why? _What's changed between us?"_ Ron's voice echoed in her head as she unpacked her bags in her childhood bedroom. Her parents had had their memories restored two years previous and promptly returned to their home in Hampstead, leaving behind their life in Australia. 

_"Everything,"_ she had replied to him _. "We're not in love any more, Ron. We haven't been for quite some time. We're just coasting by on routine alone."_

He hadn't wanted to listen to her, he turned his back on her as her belongings folded themselves into her old Hogwarts trunk—as if not seeing it happen meant that it wasn't. When he turned back around, Hermione was surprised to see his eyes glistening with emotion. 

_"How will I live without you? You're everything to me, 'Mione."_

Hermione had walked to him then and hugged him hard. When she pulled back, she left her hand on his heart. 

_"You will be fine without me, Ron. More than fine. You will have the opportunity to find_ real _love. Someone who can make you really happy—provide you with the kind of life you want."_

_"I already have the kind of life I want!"_

_"I'm sorry, Ron, but I don't. I was never meant to be the happy homemaker."_

When she had slipped her engagement ring from her finger and left it on the dining table, she turned to look at Ron. Her friend, her dear, dear friend. She gave him a watery smile, whispered goodbye and closed the door behind her. 

That last part of their conversation was what she would remember. That in the end, he'd let her go gently. She'd forget the yelling and the screaming that had come before it because she knew that was reactionary—and to be honest, expected. She'd remember her relationship with Ron fondly, without yearning to return to it. She had decided that for now, she wouldn't consider Malfoy—or his words. That just, for now, she would consider herself first. Take the time to figure out what she wanted—how to make herself happy before she could consider making anyone else happy. No matter who that person would be. She requested the week off from work, giving herself the time to recover mentally from last weekend, prepare for the following weekend and maybe, just maybe figure out what she wanted from her life along the way.

*

By the end of the week, Hermione had discovered that she no longer wished to work in the _Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures._ Bureaucracy was blocking her at every turn in that department, and she never had the feeling that she was gaining any ground. One success with the House Elves was all she had under her belt. She wanted to _implement_ change and the only way to do that was to gain a position that allowed her to make, change or update laws. This would be incredibly hard work, but Hermione Jean Granger had never shied away from hard work before and she wasn't about to let it stand in her way now. So, she had put in for a transfer to the _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_. She would hear back about a position by the end of the month. She was feeling happy and confident about this decision and believed it was the first step in getting back on track with her life. 

Now she just had to handle the wedding weekend. First stop was spending the night at Ginny and Harry's home. Harry would be with Ron, respecting the tradition of not seeing the bride the night before the wedding. It would be the first time that she had seen or spoken to Ginny since the weekend previous and Hermione had no idea what she would be walking into.

Hermione whirled into existence in the fireplace at Twelve Grimmauld Place feeling apprehensive. She found Ginny in the kitchen downstairs, preparing dinner for the two of them. When she heard Hermione enter, she spun to face her friend. Ginny removed her waist apron and embraced Hermione tightly. 

"Talk to me," she said. 

"It's the night before your wedding, Gin. Surely you have other things on your mind?"

"Things other than the maid of honour and best man not being on speaking terms?"

"What? Is that what Ron thinks? I don't feel that way!"

"But I think maybe _he_ does," Ginny responded, taking a seat at the long dining table.

"Oh dear," Hermione said, joining her. "That wasn't my intention at all, Ginny. I never wanted this to affect your wedding."

"Honestly, I don't think it will and it's really not what I am most worried about. I'm worried about the both of you. What happened?"

"Oh, Ginny. Ron and I—well, we haven't been happy for a while. At least, I haven't. I think with some time, Ron will realise that he wasn't either. We were surviving on the fumes of the love we used to have and that's just not enough to get us through any more. We were holding each other back from having a real shot at a full life and I couldn't do it anymore."

"So this had nothing to do with him showing up at the _Selwyn's_ last weekend?" Ginny questioned sceptically.

"While it certainly didn't help, it wasn't the reason for me leaving him. Maybe it was the catalyst, though," Hermione admitted to her. "I still love him dearly and I hope that one day we can be good friends again... but we just aren't right for each other. I'm sorry if this has any impact on the wedding at all."

"Harry is doing damage control with Ron tonight. Maybe you can send him an owl while I finish up with dinner and then Harry will know your side as well. Ron won't want things to go wrong for tomorrow, so I'm sure it will all work out just fine."

"Ok, I'll get the letter started and once we have eaten, I'll grab the potions I made for our skin and hair. Let's just relax for the rest of the night and get you to bed nice and early."

"Sounds good to me. Any chance you packed a _Dreamless Sleep_ potion as well?"

"Why? Feeling nervous?"

"Just a tad," Ginny admitted with a grin.

"Good thing I usually think of everything, then," Hermione winked at her friend as she set quill to parchment.

* * *

The next morning was a blur of movement. Hermione first helped Ginny with her hair and makeup, while at the same time managing to keep Molly and her questions about Ron at bay. Once Ginny was clad in a robe; hair in a loose bun with baby's breath wound through, her makeup primped to perfection, sipping champagne and munching delicately on a cucumber sandwich, Hermione took the opportunity to get herself ready. She twisted her hair around her wand and pinned the curls back to form a waterfall of locks down her back. Makeup was not her strong suit, so she used a glamour charm on her face before slipping into her rose gold, floor-length, sequined gown. Twenty minutes before the ceremony found Hermione and Molly lacing the corset of Ginny's shimmering golden lace ball gown. Once fully secured, Ginny fluffed the ivory tulle and took a seat to clasp her Grandmother's pearl necklace around her neck. Molly was simultaneously beaming and sobbing at the sight of her daughter, the bride. 

"Don't start, mum. You'll get me going and I have no intention of crying today!"

"Right. Right you are, Ginny. I'm just so proud and you're so beautiful. Just wait until your father sees you!"

"Just wait 'til _Harry_ sees you," Hermione chimed in, "you really are the most beautiful bride, Gin."

Ginny beamed at them through the reflection in the mirror. "Let's get this show on the road!"

And with that comment, she stood. The three women joined hands and performed side-along apparition to _Grittleton House_ in Wiltshire. The ceremony was being held in the orangery, overlooking the gorgeous Italian style gardens, giving an open, airy and rustic feel to the celebration. 

Arthur met them to the side of the building out of the line of sight from everyone gathered inside. He kissed Molly on the cheek, nodded a greeting to Hermione and had a sudden intake of breath when his gaze landed on his only daughter. Arthur held that breath for what felt like several minutes while a solitary tear escaped his eye. When he let the air out of his lungs, he still didn't say a word, he just hugged his daughter hard and placed a kiss on the top of her head. After a moment, he released her. Nodding to Molly and Hermione, he flicked his wand to send a message to the guitarist who would serenade them down the flower-strewn aisle.

Molly walked down the aisle first and took a seat in the front row. Hermione followed in Molly's footsteps, making sure to hold her bouquet high and to keep a happy smile plastered on her face. Hermione locked eyes with Harry who was pulling at his collar nervously but had a stupidly goofy grin on his face. She flicked her eyes to the right to see Ron staring resolutely at the ground to avoid meeting her gaze. 

_Ok_ , Hermione thought. _This is going to be a long and awkward day._ With her smile still firmly in place, Hermione turned to face the people gathered and to watch Arthur walk Ginny down the aisle. Once Ginny appeared, Harry's goofy grin turned into a look of absolute awe as he took her in. Hermione could swear that she saw a tear in his eye as Ron nudged him with his elbow.

* * *

After the ceremony, Harry and Ginny greeted their guests in the Italian gardens with cold glasses of champagne and light hors d'oeuvres. Hermione and Ron stood on either side of the couple, politely ignoring each other whilst attending to the guests. Hermione was just about to swallow a mouthful of champagne when Draco appeared to congratulate the newlyweds. Instead of swallowing, she choked quietly. Ginny threw her a quizzical look before thanking Malfoy for his well-wishes. The look Draco threw at Hermione was a look full to the brim of intent. After several long and awkward moments, he moved away to make room for the next guest. 

"Hermione, can you try to die quietly please?" Harry threw over his shoulder. Ginny smacked him lightly on the arm.

"Are you ok?" Ginny asked her.

"Yes," Hermione squeaked with her hand on her throat. "It just went down the wrong way."

Once all of the guests had greeted the Potters, Hermione pulled Ginny to the side. "Umm, what the hell is Malfoy doing here?"

"Yeah, so weird story. Harry bumped into him at the Ministry on Thursday. Apparently, he wanted to apologise for all the shit he put you guys through at Hogwarts and wished him luck for today. So then, out of nowhere, Harry decides to just invite him along. Says he lives in the next manor over or something," Ginny shrugged. "Harry said it was a really weird conversation, but he felt like it would be the right thing to do. Why?"

It was Hermione's turn to shrug. "I just thought it was strange for him to be here. Typical thing for Harry to do, though, I suppose." Hermione smiled. "I'm going to find the loo," she told Ginny, "I'll catch up with you later."

The bathroom was the furthest thing from Hermione's mind as she began to search for Malfoy. She needed to find him and get him out of there before things escalated. Searching through the throng of people was proving to be futile, though. Standing still for a moment, Hermione scanned the crowd, hunting for a particular blonde head. 

"You look incredible today, Granger,” he purred into her ear, making her jump. “Why am I still waiting for your owl?"

"You have _got_ to stop sneaking up on me," she growled in return. Hermione stalked off in the direction of _Grittleton House_ , knowing he would follow her. Away from the wedding guests, they wouldn't be overheard. Finally, she rounded a corner and Hermione spun to face him. 

"I haven't sent an owl because I haven't figured out what to write!"

"And I have the feeling that you won't be figuring it out any time soon—which is why I had to practically beg Potter for an invitation to this shindig. You haven't been at the Ministry all week. How else was I supposed to get a hold of you?" His tone was scathing—as if _he_ was the one who should be upset. 

"Merlin, Malfoy. Are you stalking me now?"

"No," he replied immediately, affronted. "Just trying to get some kind of an answer from you."

"I thought that I was clear that I needed time—that I would contact you when I was ready!"

"In all the years that you've known me, Granger, have I ever struck you as a patient man? Let me help you make up your mind." 

He was moving towards her quickly now—and too late Hermione sensed his intention. She backed up against the wall as he reached her. He took her face in his hands and lowered his lips to hers. Hermione lifted her eyes to find his and saw that he was waiting. His hold on her face was gentle. He was giving her the option to pull away... but she wasn't sure anymore that she wanted to. Draco waited several moments and when she didn't move, he pressed his lips to hers. 

Hermione was filled with sensation. The tingle in her lips spread through her whole body until her stomach was performing backflips like they never had before. Before she knew it, she was threading her fingers into the hair at the back of his head and moulding her body into his.

" _What fresh hell is this?_ " 

Hermione and Draco sprung apart to see Ron standing not five metres from them, his face a dark shade of red. He moved swiftly towards Malfoy and presented him with a right hook to the face. 

"Oh my God, Ron! What are you doing?"

"What am I doing? Fuck's sake, Hermione! What are _you_ doing?"

"I—I don't know," she stammered.

"Did he slip you a potion?" Suddenly Ron was concerned, rushing to her.

"What? Fuck no!" This came from Malfoy, indignant, wiping a spot of blood from his lip with his thumb. "What do you take me for?"

"A slimy little ferret!"

This time it was Draco's turn to swing a punch. Ron twisted away, but not before the hit landed on his jaw.

Hermione sensed the next move and was quicker than either of them. Whipping out her wand, Hermione stole both of their wands with a swift _Expelliarmus_. 

Both wizards' wands flew into her outstretched hand. "Do _not_ make me stun you," she warned them both. "This is a _wedding_!" She hissed. Turning to Ron, "Your best friend and sister's wedding! This is not the time _or_ place for this conversation. We are going to go back to the celebration and we’re going to pretend that this never happened, got it?"

"Did you leave me for him?" Apparently, Ron had not heard Hermione's previous statement. 

"That's a good question!" chimed in Malfoy.

"Ugh!" Hermione threw up her hands in frustration. " _No_ Ron, I didn't leave you for him. I left you for me, for you, for both of us."

"If that's true, how do you end up in his arms less than a fucking week later?" 

"Another good question, Weaselbee. You're awfully clever these days!"

"Shut it, Malfoy!" Hermione warned while Ron made to move towards him again. 

"Look, Ron, there is more to it than that, but I am not willing to get into it right now.” Hermione stood between the two wizards, an arm stretched in each direction, separating them. “I promise I will tell you the truth at the end of the night when the party's over and we have seen Harry and Ginny off on their honeymoon. Go calmly now and I promise I will. Put up a fight and I won't," she warned. 

Ron was turning red again, struggling to decide between learning the truth and expressing his anger here and now. He spent a minute clenching and unclenching his fists before he turned, walking away without another word.

"Well, that was certainly interesting." Draco came up behind her and placed a hand on her lower back.

Hermione didn't move but told Malfoy in no uncertain terms, "You need to leave."

"Forget him, Granger. I'm here now."

"God, Malfoy! You're such an ass! You've made things so much worse. Why did you have to egg him on?"

"I thought he was asking some very pertinent questions. Ones I'd equally like to have the answers to."

"I don't _have_ any fucking answers for you. Not yet—and let me tell you that you're not helping the situation. You can't just kiss me like that and think it solves all of our problems. Being a good lover doesn't necessarily make for a good partner."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, "so I am a good lover?"

"Of course that's your take away. _Look_ Malfoy, I am still overwhelmed. I just ended my relationship with Ron and applied for a new job. Honestly, I don't know if I have the time or the capacity to start something new any time soon. If you love me like you say you do, you will give me time _and_ space because you and I are not on the same page right now. And the way you act when confronted is not attractive to me at all. So go—please,” she softened her tone and met his gaze. “Let me have this day with my friends before I bring the world crashing down on Ron. Give me the time to figure myself out before I try to figure you out. Stop sneaking up on me and _for fucks sake_ , please stop trying to seduce me. We already know that that part works."

"Fine. I'll go, but you _will_ send me an owl tomorrow and tell me how it goes down with Weasley. I'll need to know if I have to watch my back or not."

"I think that's pretty much guaranteed at this point," she threw over her shoulder as she walked back to the celebration.

Draco watched her walk away. The sun reflected off the sequins on her dress and he thought that she sparkled brighter than any star he'd ever seen.

During dinner, Hermione was approached by Luna. "Hello Luna," Hermione said. "It’s nice to see you as your lovely self again and not some middle-aged man."

"I did have a truly wonderful time last weekend, Hermione. Thank you for organising it. I'm pleased to know that you recognised me as well. How did you realise?"

"I think it was about the time that you mentioned Wrackspurts," Hermione winked at her friend. 

"Oh, yes," Luna said, a smile on her face as she rocked her legs back and forth beneath her seat. "Forgive me, Hermione but you don't seem quite yourself tonight. Is there something on your mind that you'd like to talk about?"

Luna's hand was resting on the table and Hermione gave it a friendly pat. "You're right, Luna. I do have something on my mind, but I'm not quite ready to talk about it just yet."

"Ok. Let me know if you change your mind. I think I'd quite like to dance now. Will you join me?"

"There’s no one on the floor yet, Luna,” Hermione smiled indulgently at her friend.

“Someone has to be the first,” Luna reminded her.

“Yes,” Hermione considered her. “You’re right and I think I will join you." Hermione brightened, grateful for the distraction.

*

Soon, the cake had been cut and it was time to send the newlyweds on their way. The guests formed two lines from the dancefloor to a pair of brooms one hundred feet away. Lifting their wands in a direction over the person opposite's head, the guests shot red sparks as the couple raced through the human tunnel. Harry and Ginny jumped on their brooms and disappeared into the darkening sky, red sparks trailing behind them. The moment that Hermione turned away from their retreating forms, she was greeted by the towering figure of Ron. With a sigh, she led him away from the rest of the guests who continued to enjoy the festivities, and back into the orangery. Hermione took a seat and gestured for Ron to do the same. He declined, preferring to stand with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Fine then," she said. "I guess I’ll start at the beginning—but before I do you need to know without a doubt that I did _not_ leave you for Malfoy."

Ron said nothing, but waved his hand through the air in a circular motion, indicating that she should just get on with it. Hermione drew a deep breath and decided to rip the bandaid off.

"Last weekend you and I had a fight when you showed up at the hotel. The next night, the girls and I went to that Polyjuice party. The whole idea is a true masquerade party. You can choose to be a man or a woman and you honestly have _no idea_ who anyone else is because you go through the transformation on your own. So, I go into the party and I have no clue where Ginny or anyone else is—so I just decided to blow off some steam. You know... try to recover from our fight a little bit,” Hermione paused here, considering how she should continue. Deciding on a course, she continued, “Not too long into the night, a man buys me a drink. Of course, I'm sceptical of his intentions—but he tells me he knows who I am, whispers my name in my ear and apologises for all of our fights and arguments over the years. He says he doesn't want to lose me. Don't you see, Ron? I thought it was you. That makes sense, doesn't it? A man is apologising to me about fighting right after we have another one?"

Ron gave her no indication about whether or not he thought it made sense. "And then what?"

"And then we had a really nice evening. We were laughing, drinking, dancing and —"

"And what? Kissing?"

"Yes, kissing and then—”

"One thing led to another?" Ron threw his hands up in the air.

Hermione let out the breath she was holding, resigned, "Yes, one thing led to another. But I thought it was _you_. I thought I was making up with _you_ , rekindling things with _you!_ " Hermione was aware that she was verging on hysterics, but she needed him to understand.

Ron was pacing the room angrily now, his footsteps falling heavily. Hermione was worried he'd start hexing the furniture, so furious was his countenance. "So let me get this straight. You're running around the whole evening with Malfoy thinking it was me? In what fucking universe could anyone ever confuse the two of us?"

"Everything different about him... I put it down to the Polyjuice. I wasn't exactly feeling like myself, either. It's rather liberating to have no one know who you truly are—to not have to worry about what people are seeing or saying. And he knew things about me. Not once did I feel like I was talking to someone who wasn't a friend."

"Right then. At what point did you finally realise your mistake?"

"In the morning—please don't look at me like that, Ron. I'm so _dreadfully_ sorry. I would never have done this to you intentionally. Malfoy and I... we had a big row. He thought I knew it was him underneath the potion. I don't think he was purposely deceiving me. No really, I don't."

"He thought you'd want to cheat on me—with _him?_ "

Hermione shrugged. "It appears that way. He seemed to be aware already that we weren't happy—"

"That you weren't happy, you mean!"

Another sigh, "Yes. That I wasn't happy."

"None of this makes sense. I thought Malfoy hated you, that he couldn't stand to be near a muggle-born—as if you were contagious. Now he wants to sleep with you? Maybe this is all some big dare or something?"

"Is _that_ what you think? That only someone who was dared to would have sex with me?"

"Course not," he threw his hands in the air again. "Just that it would be the only reason _Malfoy_ would."

Hermione huffed for a few seconds. Of course, she had just dropped a major bomb on Ron. So far he was handling it better than she thought he would—but he also didn't know the full story yet. He wasn't so furious with _her_ because he thought she had been duped—which she had been... but now she needed to tell Ron the rest of it.

"He did—" Hermione stopped to clear her throat before continuing quietly. "He did ask me to leave you for him."

"He whaaat?" Ron roared.

"He says he's been in love with me for years," she whispered. Stupidly hoping that if it was said quietly, Ron might react in kind. She was wrong. He started hurling the golden chairs one by one around the room, making them crash noisily into each other. Hermione watched Ron take his rage out on the chairs for two whole minutes before trying to get his attention again.

"Ron!" She called out forcefully. 

"I'll kill him! I'll _fucking_ kill him! I'll bet he's been plotting this moment for years! Just waiting to swoop in and steal you away from me. He won't get away with it, the fucking white ferret. I'll kill him!"

"Ron! Stop, please! He hasn't stolen me away from you. You and I never would have made it down the aisle regardless." Hermione was pointing her wand at the broken chairs, repairing them wordlessly. She didn't want Harry and Ginny to lose their deposit after all of this. "And I'm not going to run off into the sunset with him."

"Then why did I catch the two of you kissing earlier?"

"I'm not saying it will _or_ won't happen. I honestly don't know if I even like him at _all_... but we do have chemistry. And even if it's not with him, you do need to be prepared that one day I will move on, as will you."

"One week later is not _'one day'_ Hermione! And bloody Malfoy? Pick literally anyone but him! _"_

"I can't make that promise, Ron. I'm sorry.” They stared at each other for several moments, not knowing what else to say. “I think it might be best if we get back to the party and start helping pack up now," Hermione suggested eventually.

"That's it? That's all you have to say now?" Ron went back to pacing.

"What else is there to say? You wanted to know what happened— even if it would hurt. Now you know. Let's not prolong it." Hermione was already on her feet and making her way back to the party where several of the guests had begun to Disapparate. 

* * *

Hermione arrived home feeling tired to her bones. She didn't even bother to take off her dress. Just flipping her shoes off, she landed face-first on the bed where she stayed until morning. The first thing Hermione did when she woke up was take a shower. The second thing she did was to go downstairs. Clad in her bathrobe, Hermione kissed her parents on the cheek, poured herself a cup of coffee and retreated to her bedroom to write that damn letter to Malfoy.

_Malfoy,_

_Ron knows everything. I couldn't lie to him and I won't lie to you. He did threaten to kill you—several times. While I don't think he'd follow through on that, I also think it would be unwise to not show caution. A hex_ could _be coming your way._

_In regards to you and I... you need to calm down. These are the answers I will give you:_

_Yes, I am attracted to you._

_Yes, we have a lot of sexual chemistry._

_Yes, I am curious to see where we could take things but —_

_I do not want to take them_ anywhere _right now._

_You say that you have been in love with me for years. Well, if that is true, you won't mind waiting for a little while longer. I have never considered you as anything other than my childhood bully, so it's going to take some time for me to come to terms with this drastic change. Understand that. It also wouldn't hurt if you were less of an arse to other people. Think on that for a while._

_Let me contact you when I'm ready. If you're back with Astoria by then, I won't hold a grudge._

_Granger._


	4. Part Four

Hermione was tired. It had been a long day with the Wizengamot working on abolishing another law that favoured pure-blood wizarding families. She extinguished the _Lumos_ charm in her office and Disapparated home. Arriving in her bedroom, she shucked off her shoes and blazer. She squished her toes into the fluffy carpet, enjoying the feel of being out of her high heels. 

"You're home," Draco walked into the room and kissed her temple lightly. "How was your day?"

"Bloody awful but I feel like I am making some progress with the Wizengamot. How was yours? Did you figure out that final ingredient yet?"

"That, my dear, is as elusive as you were two years ago," he told her with a smile. "Now, get out of your work clothes and get ready for dinner. I have a surprise."

Hermione groaned, she just wanted to fall asleep in bed with a good book—but Draco seemed excited, so she decided to indulge him. She took a cool, refreshing shower, spritzed a lightly spiced perfume, dusted some powder over her face and slipped into a flowery summer dress. The sooner she was ready, the sooner she could snuggle up in bed. She was drained after these long days in the courtrooms. 

"You look lovely," Draco said as she met him downstairs in the dining room. Hermione was relieved to see that he was also dressed fairly casually in linen—dark trousers and a light blue button-up shirt. 

"Flip-flops?" She questioned him by way of response, glancing at his feet.

"It's fitting for the occasion," he told her with a wink. He led her to the table where a single knut lay. "Ready?" He asked her.

She smiled in reply as they both reached for the knut at the same time. The familiar tug and pull of the Portkey ended, leaving them on a secluded, sandy beach in Cornwall. Hermione grinned up at him as he took her hand and led her to the shore where they could dip their toes in the water. "This is marvellous, Malfoy, thank you. Is this the same beach—"

"Where we had our first date? Yes, it is."

"Does that mean—"

"Fish and chips on a picnic blanket? Yes, it does." 

"Can you stop—"

"Finishing your sentences? Yes, I can," he smirked down at her, lifting her into her arms and spinning with her through the ankle-deep water. Draco set her back down and took her face in his hands, leaning in for a sweet kiss. Hermione returned the kiss with fervour. Over the last two years, she had discovered that she and Draco were much more evenly matched than she could have ever anticipated. She always knew that he was sharp and clever and on that one fateful night on Ginny's hens weekend, she had discovered their sexual chemistry. In the time since she had learned that he was also warm, funny and incredibly generous—not just with her, but with all whom he considered a friend. Draco Malfoy was so much more than the shell of the man he allowed most of the world to see. Hermione had fallen slowly in love with him, making sure to take her time and to be certain before she would allow herself to fully commit. 

Back on the picnic blanket, Draco was busy performing the spells necessary to keep not only muggles away but also any prying eyes. He wanted to make this night truly one to remember. Hermione set about pouring them glasses of a crisp Sauvignon Blanc from the Marlborough region of New Zealand. Draco waved his wand over the candles— lighting them and making them float—adding to the ambience. He settled down next to her and accepted the wine glass she offered him with a quick peck on the cheek.

"This was one spectacular first date you bought me on, Malfoy. Any reason you're recreating it tonight?"

"I thought it would be an adequate way to celebrate our second anniversary," He told her.

Hermione nearly choked on her wine. Had it already been two years since their first date?

"Those six months you made me wait for your owl were absolute torture, Granger. But every moment since has been one hundred percent perfect and I wouldn't have changed a single second."

"You know perfectly well that those six months were necessary. If I didn't take that time for myself, we never would have ended up here if we rushed into things."

"As usual, you are correct, my dear."

"I'll never get tired of hearing you say that," Hermione told him with a smile on her face, punctuated with a rather loud grumble from her stomach. With a chuckle, Draco waved his wand and a parcel wrapped in newspaper appeared in front of them. 

"Oooh, yes!" Hermione clapped her hands twice in delight before unwrapping the package to reveal the steaming hot chips and battered fish. A pot of tartar sauce and another of mushy peas arrived next to the bundle. 

Hermione was tearing into the fish and was in the process of shoving a large piece of it in her mouth when Draco cleared his throat. Hermione turned to face him, her mouth bulging to see him with a camera in hand, snapping a picture at the perfect moment. Hermione swallowed the fish and pushed Draco light-heartedly in the chest. "What a charming picture that’s going to make!" She shook her head and reached for a chip.

"I just needed to capture the mood before it changes," he replied.

"Why would the mood change?" Hermione asked. Suddenly wary, she turned back to look at him again. She choked on the chip she was eating. "Malfoy—what is _that_?"

"That, Granger, is a ring box. Would you like to see what is inside?"

"Oh, Merlin. I don't know—do I?"

"I'd very much like it if you did," he smirked at her, sensing a victory.

"Alright then," Hermione grabbed for her glass of wine and gulped it down. "Open it up."

"Before I do, I have something to say,” Draco waited for her to put the glass back down and fix him with all of her nervous attention. “Hermione, even with all my arrogance I never imagined that you'd be with me. I hoped for it and I dreamed about it, but the day your owl arrived, I nearly fell off my chair. I thought I'd ruined any chance I ever had with you after the Polyjuice Party… and then I was a complete twat at Potter's wedding and expected to never hear from you again. You have made me happier than I ever imagined was possible. I hope to all the gods that I make you even half as happy…” Another pause as he caught his breath. “I will live to the end of my days trying if you'll let me. Two years down the track and I know with all of my being that I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I love you. My question is whether or not you want to be with me for the rest of yours?" He looked into her eyes as he opened the green velvet ring box. 

Hermione continued to gaze into his eyes for a moment, not even bothering to look at the ring. She took his face into her hands and pulled him to her, crushing her lips onto his. He kissed her back passionately, dropping the ring in favour of pulling her to him. 

He leaned back for just a moment and asked, "Is that a yes?"

"I haven't decided yet. Just shut up and kiss me!"

So he did—and before they knew it, the food had grown cold and their clothes had all been discarded. Draco made his way south from Hermione's lips, sucking the sea salt from her skin as he went. As he reached his final goal, he buried his head between her thighs, lifting them up and over his shoulders. Hermione arched her back, her head sinking back into the sand. Her hands flung out, looking for something to find purchase on. Knocking over a glass of wine, but still finding nothing other than sand, she instead brought her hands to her chest, squeezing and teasing her breasts. When that wasn't satisfying enough, she tangled them in her curls, tugging on the locks until it hurt. Draco was busy utilising his fingers, mouth and tongue. Using his fingers to separate her folds and pressing his tongue inside her warmth, stroking his way up to circle her clit and back down again. When she bucked against his face, he latched onto her clit; sucking, licking and stroking with his tongue while he gently inserted one, then two fingers inside, searching for her g-spot. Curling his fingers inside of her, Draco smirked as she mewled and pushed her pelvis harder against him, searching for her release. She came with a shuddering explosion around his fingers. Lifting them to his mouth, Draco sucked her juices from them. 

Her snatch still pulsing, Hermione reached for him and pulled him down on top of her, kissing him and tasting herself on his tongue. One of his hands found its way to her breast and began a slow massage, skimming over an already puckered nipple. Hermione reached down to take his cock into her hand and he broke away from her mouth, he took the other breast between his lips, sucking and swirling his tongue around her nipple. 

"Oh gods, Malfoy," she cried out, rolling them over so that she was on top. With his erection throbbing against her inner thigh, she made quick work of scooting down his body to take him into her mouth. The tip already leaking with pre-cum, Hermione licked it off like melted ice cream, wiped her mouth with one finger and then licked her way down the length of him, around and back up again. 

"Granger," he growled. She grinned, but swirled her tongue around the head once, twice before coming up for air. "Not gonna last, Granger," he warned her. 

She lifted her body and positioned herself over him, sinking down and filling herself with him. They groaned together in unison. "Wasn't lying, Granger," he panted. Hermione started to move over him in earnest. Up and down she ground it out, taking her pleasure from him. She rubbed her hands over her breasts as she rode him. Draco followed the pattern her tits made as she moved with hungry eyes; and when her fingers followed the path of her body down to her clit, he nearly fell apart. He managed to hold it together as she used her fingers to massage between her legs while she continued to grind down on him. His hands flew to her hips, knowing he was about to come undone, he pushed her harder and faster against his body until he could feel her clenching around him for the second time. 

"Mmmmmph, Draco," she called out as her walls caved in and he released inside her. He was still pulsing inside her when she collapsed on top of him, both sweating despite the cool sea breeze. He pushed her hair off of her face and pulled him to her for a long kiss full of ardour. 

"I love you," he told her again.

"Yes," she said in reply.

"Hmm?" Still lost in their passion, Draco wasn't immediately aware of what she was saying.

"Yes," she repeated. "I think I can do _this_ for the rest of our lives. I love you, too. Yes, of course, I will marry you!" She was grinning at him. His face lit up with the purest form of happiness, an expression reserved only for her. He kissed her hard on the mouth and slipped out of her to search for the ring box.

With his seed still seeping from her and slipping down her leg, she sat up to watch him search in the mess of clothes, picnic blanket, sand and greasy newspaper for that green velvet box. Finding it, he plucked the prize from inside, discarded the box and slid the ring on to her left ring finger and Hermione had her first glance at it. She sucked in a big breath and let it out slowly. 

"Malfoy, is that—"

"Yes. I had it custom-designed for you. You’re the first to wear it."

Hermione had expected something extravagant—something old and traditional from the Malfoy vault in Gringotts passed down from generation to generation. What she had was indeed extravagant but also modern, yet classic... and one hundred percent _her._ The tear-shaped lilac diamond was surrounded by smaller white diamonds that carried down and around the band, set into rose gold. The ring took her breath away not just from its beauty or the weight of it—which spoke to its clarity and carat, but for the fact that Draco had designed it for her and _it was perfect_. The diamond was her favourite colour and the cut was her favourite shape. The rose gold band was a modern alternative to yellow gold, yet didn't give way to the white gold trend. This man loved her and knew her so well that her heart skipped a beat at the thought of it. She knew that this was not an engagement she would back out of. She would be Hermione Jean Malfoy. Or maybe she wouldn't take his name at all. Maybe she'd hyphen in Granger... but that was a thought for later. They pulled their clothes back on and lay down on the blanket, holding each other as they watched the sun start to dip below the horizon.

*

"Jinkle?" Hermione called. The House Elf appeared next to where Hermione stood. 

"Yes, misses?" The House Elf curtsied, holding her little pink dress to the side as she dipped. No amount of asking had been successful in getting the elf to stop dipping or bowing and Hermione had long since given up. 

"Harry, Ginny and James along with Blaise and Pansy will be joining us for dinner this evening. Please set another four places at the table and assemble a high chair between two of them. We will also need some of those chicken nuggets I have stashed away for little James," Hermione told her.

"No problems, misses. Jinkle asks the kitchen elves for more dinner and chickens nuggetses and makes room at the table for the Potterses, Misses Pansy and Mr Blaise."

"Thank you very much, Jinkle," Hermione thanked the elf with a smile as Jinkle popped out of existence as quickly as she popped in. 

Hermione and Draco had invited the Potter's, Pansy and Blaise over for the evening to tell them their good news. While Hermione had come to be on good terms with the always jovial Blaise, she still couldn't manage anything other than casual pleasantry with Pansy. However, the witch was one of Draco's best friends, so she put in the effort—just as he did with the Potters. Hermione could have sworn though that Draco _did_ actually enjoy Harry and Ginny's company and try as he might, he couldn't disguise his adoration of little James. Hermione had a feeling that Draco wouldn't mind getting started on making their own family directly after the wedding. The idea was one that simultaneously thrilled and frightened her. Either way, this was sure to be an interesting evening. 

At five-thirty that evening, Hermione stood in the foyer, facing the fireplaces with Draco by her side. The first fireplace lit up in green flames and Ginny stepped out, holding on to James. One second later, Harry followed. 

Draco and Hermione moved forward to greet them, "Ginny, Harry, James!" Hermione grinned as she kissed both friends on the cheek and took little James from Ginny for a cuddle, a kiss and a tickle. 

"Hermione, you look wonderful. That robe is to die for!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Oh yes," Hermione agreed, “you know how I love lilac," she said with a wink, looking down to examine the silk robe that she had picked specifically to match her ring. 

"Malfoy," Harry offered his hand.

"Potter," Draco took it and gave it a firm shake. He nodded a greeting to Ginny and promptly removed James from Hermione's arms, setting the toddler on the floor to play a wobbly game of chase. 

"Like a punch to the gut," Ginny said. "How do your ovaries take it?" She asked with a grin and a wink.

"Better than yours, evidently," Hermione gestured to Ginny's rounding belly. 

At that moment another fireplace lit up and Pansy glided through. Hermione exchanged a glance with Ginny. Draco finished up his game with James and passed the giggling child to his father as he moved to greet Pansy, Hermione a step behind him. 

"Draco," Pansy purred, throwing her arms around his neck and placing a kiss on his cheek. When she let go, there was a red stain left behind. "Silly me," she chuckled.

"Never mind," Draco said, using his wand to vanish the mark. 

"Granger," Pansy placed her hands on Hermione's shoulders and kissed the air beside both cheeks. 

"Pansy," Hermione grimaced back. "How lovely to see you again."

"Should we go through to the parlour for a drink?" Draco suggested.

"Shouldn't we wait for Zabini?" Harry asked.

"He's always late," Pansy and Draco all said in unison. 

"Oh," said Harry awkwardly as a blush rose on Hermione's face. 

The first fireplace lit up again and Blaise came tumbling out. "Sorry I'm late," he called.

Draco checked his wrist for a watch he wasn’t wearing, “But you’re on time for once,” he told him.

Hermione's blush deepened. "I might have told him five o'clock," she said with a smile, kissing his cheek in greeting. "Let's skip cocktail hour this time and get some food into this little boy's hungry tummy!"

The look of relief on Ginny's face was palpable as they moved to the dining room in lieu of the parlour. Once everyone was seated at the table, wine goblets were filled and a plate of chicken nuggets appeared in front of James. He picked one up and stuck it straight in his mouth, much to the amusement of everyone at the table. While everyone was chuckling, Hermione slipped her ring out of her robe and onto it's designated finger. Under the table, Draco placed his hand on top of hers, gave it a slight squeeze and flashed her a smile as the first course appeared on the table.

Harry looked at it unenthusiastically as he picked up his spoon. "What is it?" He asked, poking his spoon into the clear liquid.

"Consommé," Hermione replied, "just try it, Harry. You'll like it." She could have sworn that she heard him murmur " _bloody french food"_ under his breath as he lifted his spoon to his mouth.

"So Potter, what's the latest gossip coming out of DMLE?" Blaise asked Harry.

"Actually," Draco interrupted. "Before we get into the inevitable discussion of work, we have something to tell you."

"You're splitting up?" Pansy asked with a pout that somehow didn't _quite_ hide her glee. 

"Er, not exactly," Hermione said, taking her hand out from under the table and brandishing her ring in Harry and Ginny's direction.

"Oh gods, you're pregnant!" Harry said, dropping his spoon back into the bowl with a clatter.

"You know, not _everyone_ knocks up their lady before the wedding day, Potter," Draco said with a wink in Ginny's direction.

Ginny herself was busy attempting to dislocate Hermione's arm from her shoulder in an effort to get a closer look at the ring. "Merlin, 'Mione. That ring is a knock-out! Family heirloom, Malfoy?"

"Actually, he designed it for me," Hermione blushed.

"Did he now?" Pansy asked, her voice a little higher than usual. She left her seat in order to get a closer look at the ring.

Blaise had also left his seat but was busy hugging Draco and slapping his back in a congratulatory manner. "Good job, man. You locked her down."

"Not yet, he hasn't," Pansy reminded them. "She's backed out of an engagement before."

"Not this one, I won't," Hermione promised, receiving hugs of her own from Harry, Ginny and Blaise.

When all hugs, kisses and handshakes had been exchanged everyone returned to their seats to resume their meal. When the last of the chateaubriand had been cleared, Ginny excused herself to put James to sleep in the Malfoy nursery—the one Draco himself had slept in as an infant and which James had used many a night before this. 

The moment Ginny returned, she found that the men had gathered on one section of the table, leaving Hermione and Pansy with just each other for company. Ginny saw the veneer of Hermione's face beginning to crack. Luckily, as she took her seat amongst the other two women, dessert appeared on the table. A simple vanilla bean creme brulee. 

"What _is_ it with you and French food?" Harry asked of Hermione as he cracked the sugary shell with his spoon.

"I suppose I gained a taste for it when I went on holiday with my parents all those years ago," Hermione answered with a shrug.

"France is widely known as the fine dining capital of the world, Potter. We Brits have a thing or two to learn from them in this regard— even if pizza and pasta are far superior in my ever so humble opinion," Blaise added. "So, did you guys hear what Hopkins said to Shacklebolt last week?"

"When do you think the wedding will be?" Pansy asked Hermione. "You simply must let me help you plan it," she said with a simper.

"I'm sure you will be involved somehow, Pansy," Hermione told her with a pat on the hand.

"When _do_ you think the wedding will be?" Ginny asked as she scooped up the last of her custard. 

"We haven't set a date yet, but I think sometime in the summer."

" _This_ summer?" Both Ginny and Pansy gaped.

"Yes," Hermione smiled.

"Merlin, you _are_ pregnant!" Ginny exclaimed.

With exaggerated movements, Hermione lifted her dessert wine and took a large sip. "I am _not_ pregnant, Ginny!"

"Then what's the rush?" Pansy asked. "That gives you less than two months to pull off a massive event. These things require time and planning down to the smallest detail. It _can't_ be done in less than two months!"

"We have an open budget and magic to help us out with everything else. Why wait?" Hermione shrugged.

"The woman makes a good point," Ginny brandished her spoon in Pansy's direction. "Why wait, indeed?"

"Everyone will think you're pregnant regardless!"

"When there is no baby bump, that theory will disappear."

"The dress! The dress will take time to design and make!"

"I'm sure a touch of magic will help in this area, too" Hermione retorted.

"What about people's schedules? Surely it will be too late notice for so many guests?" Pansy simpered, barely holding onto her facade. 

"We will be having a relatively intimate wedding, Pansy. Close friends and family only. We have no desire to share our special day with anyone else."

"Why are you putting up such a fight, Parkinson?" Ginny asked her with a scowl. 

"I—I guess it's all just a shock. You know, no one expected these two to get together and now they're engaged and bam!” She clapped her hands together for emphasis, “the wedding is in a matter of weeks. It's all just a bit sudden," Pansy said in a rush.

Hermione and Ginny shared another glance. It was no secret that Pansy still harboured feelings toward her Hogwarts beau. Draco apparently was either blissfully unaware or chose not to acknowledge it in any way. Clearly Pansy was holding out for something to put a stop to the relationship. In the end, though, her desire to see him happy won out. 

"Well," Pansy sniffed. "You'd best decide when it will be and send out some Save-the-Dates before it's too late!" She took a sip of her coffee and stood up. "Well dears, I have a big day tomorrow and I need my beauty rest. Thank you for another lovely meal and congratulations again on the engagement." She hugged Hermione and Draco in turn. " _Really_ , congratulations. I know you'll make each other very happy."

Hermione snuck a look at Ginny who had both eyebrows raised, incredulous. Draco walked with Pansy into the foyer to see her off while Hermione stayed with their other guests in the dining room.

"So Granger. Tell us how he did it!" Blaise stuck his chin out and rested it in the palm of both hands, elbows supported by the dining table. 

"Did what?" 

"Proposed!" Ginny exclaimed with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh, well it was very sweet. He—"

"Rolled off of your naked body and asked if he should make an honest woman of you?" Blaise asked as he canted his head to the side.

"Er, if that's true, I'd rather not know about it," Harry confessed, completely red in the face.

"It's not," Draco said as he came striding into the room. "Though, I never took you for a prude, Potter."

"Hermione's as good as my sister. I'd rather not think about her in compromising situations if it's all the same to you," Harry replied, tugging at his collar.

"You're so sweet," Hermione patted him on the arm. "Shall we watch the sunset from the garden, drinks in hand?"

"Great idea. A change of topic would also be welcome," Harry smiled.

"Oh no—we _will_ hear how he proposed!" Ginny giggled as the five of them made their way to the patio overlooking the expansive gardens, the pride of albino peafowls visible in the distance. 

As they settled in, Jinkle appeared to pour the spiced rum lemonade cocktails for Hermione, Draco, Harry and Blaise. Ginny pouted good-naturedly about her virgin lemonade but didn't let it distract her from her task. "So," she prompted.

"Well, I got home from work on Thursday evening, completely wrecked. All I wanted was to eat something quickly, shower and go to sleep, but—"

"But I told her I had a surprise and when she turned around, I was down on one knee holding out the ring."

"Really?" questioned Ginny. "I expected something a little more extravagant," she confessed.

"He's being modest and shy," Hermione told her.

"Yes," said Blaise with a nod. "He doesn't want us all to know that he's a giant softy!"

"Zabini," Draco growled.

"I'll just tell them the short story, Draco. I'll keep it light, don't worry!" Hermione told him, grinning at the look of alarm on his face. "He took me to the same place we had our first date," she continued.

"Oh," Ginny sighed. "That beach in Cornwall?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "He even organised the same meal we'd had that night and then—"

"Granger!" 

"And then he took a picture of me with my mouth full of food, pulled out a ring and said 'happy anniversary'. Is that better, Malfoy?" Hermione threw her hands in the air, faking her frustration.

"Perfectly acceptable, Granger," Draco confirmed.

"You know I'll get the full story out of her later," Ginny warned him. 

"Not while I'm in earshot, you won't," he responded. 

"I'll look forward to hearing it from you then, Mrs Potter," Blaise said with a grin.

"Care to take a walk around the gardens, Hermione?" Harry asked, eager to leave the talk of Hermione’s personal life behind him.

"Sure thing, Harry," Hermione agreed. She knew what he wanted to ask.

The two friends linked arms and walked the stone path through the green gardens. When they were a safe distance from the others, Harry turned to her, "How are you going to tell Ron?"

"Well, I don't suppose he'd be too thrilled finding out from the _Prophet_ announcement, so I suppose I will send him an owl."

"You don't think it might be better to tell him face to face?"

"He hasn't been comfortable seeing me in person since I got together with Draco. I highly doubt this time will be any different."

"Actually, he's just started seeing someone so maybe this time will be different."

"Really? Who?"

They had reached the gazebo next to the pond. Standing next to one another, they bent over the wooden fence to watch the ducks. "Susan Bones," Harry said with a sheepish smile on his face. "He seems to be really happy."

Hermione smiled. She didn't know Susan particularly well, but from what she remembered, she was a sweet and caring person. She could be a good fit for Ron. 

"I still think I will send him an owl, give him time to get used to the idea. But this time I will suggest that we catch up for a coffee when he is ready. I'd love to be his friend again, but I don't want to push too hard too fast."

Draco came up behind them and wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist. "Blaise had to leave, he asked me to tell you both goodbye. Potter, your wife has fallen asleep and is drooling on the chaise lounge. You're both welcome to stay the night if you wish."

"Thanks for the offer Malfoy, but I think I should get Ginny and James home. Thanks for a lovely evening... and congratulations again." Harry shook Draco's hand and kissed Hermione on the cheek. "We know the way," he said, gesturing for Draco and Hermione to stay where they were, looking out at the peaceful gardens.

"Good night, Harry," Hermione smiled at him. 

When he was gone, Draco took Hermione back into his arms and kissed her long and deep. "So, how do you feel about becoming Mrs Malfoy under this gazebo?"

"The location is perfect," she told him. "But I'm sticking with Granger." 

Draco Lucius Malfoy swallowed his protest as she kissed him under the night sky. "This conversation isn't over," he murmured against her lips as he pressed her against a gazebo post and slipped her silk robes from her shoulders to pool around her feet.

"We'll see," she whispered back, a sly smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, readers. Thank you for sticking with me for this four part story. I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know your thoughts!


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